I Don't Do Puny
by dpluver
Summary: "Oh, man. I'm one makeover away from blowing my secret identity! Good thing Dash is a total moron." …or is he? An alternate ending to Micro Management.
1. Undersized

**Six years ago today, DP got canceled. I was Danny's age at the time (so young! Where did the years go?) and pretty much devastated. I think I even cried. In tribute, I thought up a new story to commemorate this infamous anniversary. **

**I know I have 3 other stories going at the moment (well, one is almost done), but I needed a more light-hearted story to get my mind off of difficult grammar lessons (3-4 hours per day, not including homework!) and "Wanted" & "A Little Push" are too angsty for this purpose, so after rewatching "Micro Management," this is a short ficlet I came up with. It'll probably only be 2-3 chapters and not my best/most descriptive writing, but it keeps this writing machine oiled. Eh? As seen in my "Boys' Best Friends" oneshot, ****I really like interactions between Dash and Danny (non-slash, not a fan of it if the characters don't swing that way in canon). So, it's basically AU after the mouse in the Op Center part (in MM, Danny went up the cheese rope thing first, but I changed that here). Written in Danny's POV. Not perfectly in-character, but snarky Danny is always fun to write, so hopefully you won't be disappointed.**

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><p>"You'll never be able to climb fast enough to save yourself!"<p>

With the way things had been going for me today, I nearly agreed with Skulker on that one; I—_we_—were doomed.

I know I sounded crazy saying this, but I was climbing up a strand of cheese. Yes, _cheese_. From a pizza. Dash, also micro-sized (if I hear the word "puny" one more time, I might just let Skulker get to him after all), was currently an inch or two above me, trying to get to the top of the desk. I could feel my power draining every step of the way; soon it was taking all of my concentration just to keep my hair more or less white. Dash may indeed be a moron, but I think the hair thing would finally do me in if I were to revert back completely.

Just when I was practically at the top, my two biggest fears were simultaneously realized: the rest of me changed back and Skulker shot a knife through the cheese, slicing through it completely. The twenty inch fall was one of the most terrifying things to have happened in my life, as I was no longer accustomed to actually obeying...what was it called? Gravity? It's been so long since I've had to acknowledge its existence that I forgot what it was called for a brief moment.

I tried not to yell on my way down, knowing that Dash would look over the side and see his favorite punching bag crumpled on the ground instead of my ghost half. Only when I hit the ground did I unintentionally let out a gasp of sheer agony, but thankfully Skulker's laughter blocked most of it out.

"Hey, where'd you go?" I heard Dash say.

With no better options at the moment, I hid behind one of the desk legs and didn't respond. Dash was returning to the freak out mode that I had found quite hilarious earlier but now was a reflection of my own view of our hopeless situation. Here I was, Danny Fenton, on the ground, with no ghost powers and no other means of getting up to the Fenton Crammer or whatever the latest idiotic device was named. If I revealed myself, Dash would figure it out—even _he_ wasn't _that_ stupid—but if I stayed quiet, then who the heck would change me back to normal?

As if on cue, none other than my dad smashed through the door of the Op Center at the sound of Dash's frantic yelps for help.

"Hey! You're not a ghost."

_Nice job, Dad. Like that wasn't the most obvious statement I've ever heard in my life._

"Change me back Mr. Fenton!" Dash pouted with an uncharacteristic display of respect for authority. I believe that's one of the first times I've ever heard Dash Baxter say "Fenton" without adding something nasty at the end. I made a mental note to bring the Crammer to school sometime. The look on Dash's face as I pull the weapon out of my locker would be utterly priceless.

"Where's the ghost boy?" Dash asked after my dad had changed him back to normal.

"Ghost boy?" my dad echoed, his voice getting that crazy edge to it, like a dog getting ready to fetch a tennis ball. Somewhere in the shadows near the refrigerator, I heard Skulker's cruel laughter. "He was in here?"

"He still is!" Dash said, having calmed down somewhat but still acting oddly, even for him. "He lost his powers and he's hiding in here somewhere."

I smacked my palm against my forehead. _Thanks Dash. I save your butt and you thank me by telling a ghost hunter where to find a powerless ghost. Fantastic. _

I crouched as low as I could against the wooden leg, my tiny heart pounding against my chest whenever one of their giant footsteps made the ground tremble. My dad nearly stepped on me at one point, until he decided to go back and grab a slice of pizza to keep him company while he and one of my worst enemies searched for the wrong me. My mind shot down every possible explanation, from "You hit both Phantom and Fenton!" to...well, that's it. I only had one plausible excuse and I struck it down at once. Whether or not Tucker was actually right about Dash's grades, a stellar D-minus GPA was still a step above total failure; Dash would be able to figure it out this time if they found me like this, right?

Apparently not.

"Hey..." Dash trailed off when he found my hiding spot and his panic was replaced with an evil glint in his eyes. "Well, well, Fentard. I didn't think you got shrunk too."

I winced, expecting the next thing out of his mouth to be a _stunning_ accusation of me being Danny Phantom and whatnot.

Because the world evidently hates me, he instead tossed me in the side pocket on his shirt and whispered something about school being "interesting tomorrow."

"You find him?" my dad asked when Dash stood back up and faced him. Even from the pits of near-hell—it smelled like that in here, anyway—I could see him feigning innocence on his face.

"Nope. I'd stay and keep looking but…uh, my mom wants me to do my homework tonight," he lied, smirking down at little ol' me.

As expected, my dad didn't catch onto this, but what I hadn't been anticipating was him to go as far as saying, "Wow! I wish my son was as good a student as you."

Gosh, the hurt. Even with my 24/7/365 job of protecting the town, I did my best to maintain solid B-minuses and this was the thanks I got?

If I hadn't been so focused on reassuring myself that I was better than Dash Baxter in nearly everything aside from football, I might have listened to my common sense telling me to yell out for my dad before Dash exited the Op Center.

As much as I hated being in the Fenton Thermos, at least it smelled nicer and was more comfortable than being chucked from side to side in my pocket prison.

"Dash?" I hear Jazz's voice somewhere behind us. "Where are you going? Where's Danny?"

"Your brother or the ghost boy?"

Again, I slapped my palm against my face.

"Uhh..." Jazz hesitated for a second then went with Phantom.

Dash shrugged. "Somewhere in your big ship thing on the roof. Your dad's looking for him."

Muffling a shriek, Jazz raced up the stairs; my yells of "_Jazz!_" unheard by all except Dash.

"Let me go, Dash!" I shouted at him, wishing I could use at least one of my powers to get out of here. As it turned out, _I_ don't do puny either.

Still smirking, he ignored my protests and sprinted out the door, taking me away from Fenton Works and destroying any last hopes of unshrinking myself.

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><p><strong>Ooohhhh bummer. Still, I wish I had a Fenton Crammer. Reviews would be greatly appreciated :)<strong>


	2. Unlucky

**Wow, I wasn't expecting _that_ kind of a response. Glad you guys like it. Again, I'm writing this story just to relax so don't expect a brilliant plot or flawless editing (I strive for those in my other 2-3 stories I have going at the moment). Bumped up to a T rating out of paranoia. No cussing or death, though. Enjoy :)**

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><p>Why me?<p>

It's a question I ask myself relatively often, you know.

Why did _I_ get zapped by the portal? It was Sam's idea. If I hadn't been such a pushover, Amity Park would have Sam Phantom flying around.

Why was _I_ the number one enemy (and still am to the two people that matter most to me)? So I shot at them. With an ecto-ray. Big deal.

Why was _I_ always getting caught in the worst situations whereas everyone else around me gets to experience a 'normal life'?

Okay, rant over. After being trapped in a moldy hamster cage all night, I wasn't in the greatest mood at the moment.

Yesterday was bad enough with Dash finding me, still pint-sized and thoroughly Fenton-ized. I didn't even have the small (no pun intended) comfort of invisibility to get me out of this mess.

Today's Monday. The President's fitness whatever-thingy is on Friday, so being my usual optimistic self, I take it this means that Dash'll take me back to Fenton Works sometime before that. Hopefully today. Apparently after school at the earliest, as this is where we were currently headed.

No amount of begging would stop Dash from tossing me in his smelly backpack, so at the moment, I was sitting in pitch-black darkness, attempting to plot my way out of here while trying not to get crushed by one of the two hundred balls of crumpled up homework assignments that Dash has yet to finish. I was nearly decapitated by a pencil a few minutes ago, but then I sought safety in the wiring of one of his notebooks.

I swear he's going to pay for this when I'm back to normal. Maybe overshadow him for a day or go with that Crammer in my locker idea. Not sure, but the longer he waits until taking me back home to get me back to normal size, the worse my wrath will be.

"Hey guys, guess what I found?" he asked, swaggering over to his stupid group of jocks and cheerleaders. Watching through the tiny zipper opening, I groaned; the _entire_ population of popular people was here, which meant that Sam and Tucker were as far away as possible.

I yelped as the zipper opened and a giant hand reached in, no doubt looking for me. I tried running back to the safety of the notebook binding, but it was too late for me. When his disgustingly sweaty palms caught me, I half-considered biting him but didn't out of fear of what was on his skin. You see, when you're the size of a bacterial organism—or at least close to it—becoming a germaphobe isn't that uncommon.

Everyone collectively gasped when I was brought out into the open. There must have been at least a dozen giants surrounding me, all of which either smelled strongly of body odor or perfume. Gross.

"A doll?" asked one of the stupider jocks, clearly unimpressed with my grand entrance.

"No," Dash snapped. "It's _Fentoaster!_"

I really wonder why he tries so hard to come up with insulting names for me if they don't even bother me in the slightest anymore.

"Awww, I always figured Fenton was small," Paulina cackled and almost stabbed me with one of her perfectly manicured fingernails.

Well, goodbye self-confidence. Not like I had much left, anyway.

I didn't want to talk or make any sound for that matter; doing so would only give them more satisfaction to see the fullest extend of my insufferable humiliation. Cowering down didn't work, as Dash took this as an opportunity to throw me across the hall. Kwan caught me and tossed me to some jock whose name I was always forgetting, all the while I was trying not to scream. Flying is familiar for me, but not as my human self! And not when I'm smaller than a baseball.

"_Brave New World_, people! What is going on here?"

I didn't need to see the face to know who _that_ voice belonged to. Considering the possibilities, I determined that Lancer discovering me would be better than getting stuck with Dash. Lancer would do something about my predicament, being a dedicated and honorable member of the faculty and all.

Of course, with my luck, Dash snatched me back from the ginger jock and threw me into his dark backpack once more.

"Nothing sir," he lied easily. "Just…waiting for my fitness trainee to show up. He's late for Miss Teslaff's class."

_What?_ I wanted to scream at him.

"Yes well…Mr. Fenton certainly has a problem with showing up on time, doesn't he? Go to class, Mr. Baxter, I'm sure Fenton will show up some time today."

At this, I couldn't help but scream. In anger. Frustration. Humiliation. If my vocabulary had been bigger, I'd have a lot more words to describe just how I was feeling right now, but I think 'more pissed off than I've ever been in my life' will do.

"What was that?" Lancer asked sharply.

"Must be Fenton falling off of the bleachers again," Dash said, shaking his backpack. Everything within, including me, was thrown up and down several times until he stopped. I would have continued yelling if I hadn't gotten crushed under a water bottle.

"See you in third period, Mr. Lancer!"

P.E. was a disaster. I finally got a glimpse of my friends, but they wouldn't venture anywhere near Dash and his friends until the end of the period.

"Where's Danny?" I could hear Sam's icy voice through the flimsy backpack material.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Manson," Dash replied stiffly, taking a step in front of his bag, blocking my view.

Figuring this would be my only chance to get help, I yelled, "SAM!"

"Danny?"

I yelled again when Dash knocked his backpack off of the bench, sending me flying to the ground. Once the black spots in my vision went away, I ran through the zipper as quickly as I could, shouting, "Tucker! Sam!" at the top of my lungs.

"Where's Danny?" Sam snapped at Dash as Miss Teslaff and a few other girls tried restraining her. "I know you heard that! What'd you do with him?"

Dash just laughed, watching them pull her away. Tucker followed after Sam, having missed my cries for help. This left just Dash and me in the gym. Despite my micro-sized body, he was still able to find me and tossed me—for the third time that day!—back into his backpack, snickering away as he jogged to second period.

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><p><strong>Chapter three is the last chapter. This was only meant to be a short little fic-let, and the ending is pretty fun, so stay tuned. As always, reviews are appreciated :)<strong>


	3. UhOh

**Thanks for the comments on the last chapter. I'd reply to them, but then it would take me years to update, so I figure people would rather have updates than replies. Hope that's okay. This is basically a crack/semi-plausible story, so instead of focusing on stellar writing, I went all-out snark with this one. More "cartoony," if you will. Enjoy~**

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><p>Have I ever mentioned how much I hate my life? No? Well, I do. Sometimes.<p>

After listening to Dash argue with Kwan for nearly an hour over whether they should film an action or romantic short film starring me and Kwan's sister's half-beheaded Barbie, I was just about ready to jump off the desk. At this size, such a fall might kill me. Or what's left of me. On the bright side, I'd get my ghost powers back, but the idea of becoming full ghost just to get out of a crummy situation wasn't exactly appealing.

This may sound contradictory to my former sentiments, but I was still trying to remain optimistic about all this. Sure, getting my face smashed against the doll's in a "romantic" make out scene—Dash's idea, for the record—wasn't all that fantastic and hearing Dash taunt Kwan about "that one time" he pretended to seduce a mannequin made me want to hurl, but I was still determined to resolve this without having to admit who I really was. I was almost certain that that would work, but giving up my secret identity to get out of becoming the first micro-sized Youtube sensation? I honestly didn't know which option was worse, but protecting my identity was a little more important, especially around two guys that couldn't keep their mouths shut about anything.

"I know!" Dash suddenly shouted. If I thought his voice rattled my nerves when I was normal-sized, it was _nothing_ to how annoying and loud he was when he was one hundred times bigger than me.

"Let's blow up the restaurant, then he'll get really mad and zombies will invade and eat his girlfriend!"

I would have rolled my eyes if the whole "blow up the restaurant" thing didn't strike so close to home. Instead, I shivered at the memory. I really found it hard to believe what mushy dumbasses these two could be when they weren't busy pummeling nerds or dominating the school's popularity pool. Clearly, playing catch had gotten old, but was it really necessary to humiliate me in front of the entire world? I got enough of that in ghost mode, but now Fenton was to be a laughingstock as well. Story of my life, I guess.

"That's stupid," Kwan told him. I automatically nodded my head in agreement. "Why zombies? Let's, like have him fight ghosts! You know like, Danny Phantom or something!"

This is when I stopped nodding and started shaking my head as furiously as I could without snapping my neck.

"Danny Phantom," Dash breathed, his idiocy leaving him for a moment as what I suppose could be called a _thoughtful_ expression crossed over his face. "You know, I haven't seen him in a while. That dumb crate ghost attacked yesterday in Lancer's class and he didn't even show up."

"Maybe he died!"

Dash rolled his eyes and in a shocking display of common sense, punched Kwan and said, "He's a ghost! He's already dead. Last time I saw him was at Fenton's house."

They both turned and looked down at me. I cowered behind the Barbie, very much disliking where this conversation was going.

"Why was the ghost boy at your house, Fenton?"

I shrugged, hating how my cheeks burned and that unstoppable urge to rub the back of my neck came over me. Seeing that they were serious, I gave in a chuckled as casually as I could manage.

"My parents have a ghost portal…maybe that's how he gets in and out of the Ghost Zone?"

Thankfully, they seemed to buy this. It wasn't a bad excuse—quite excellently improvised on my part, actually. But they still had questions.

"Know where Phantom is, Fenton?"

_Yeah, right here you idiot,_ I thought, unable to believe that he could say the two names so closely together and not catch on.

"Not a clue," I lied. "I've been stuck in that rotten hamster cage for the past few days, getting weaker and punier by the second. Things aren't looking up for your PE grades, Fitness Buddy."

"It's worth it for this," he smirked, jabbing me in the stomach with the tip of the recording camera. "Kwan, get the nail polish."

We were currently at Dash's house. Dash doesn't have a sister and his mom lives across the country. I don't even want to _imagine_ why he has nail polish just laying around his room.

It must have been a while since I've touched a girl—hugging Sam doesn't count—because I blushed after Dash ripped off Barbie's black dress and forced it over my head. No amount of protesting worked, and a minute later, I was wearing a black dress and the goddamn camera was recording.

"Hurry up Kwan!"

"The red or the white?"

I hit my palm so harshly against my forehead at that that I almost knocked myself out. There was no end to the day's surprises, was there?

"White, obviously. But bring the red…we can use that his blood."

"But ectoplasm isn't red," I pointed out.

"Hold still, Fenton!"

Hold still? Nope, I was fighting with every ounce of energy my puny body had left as he plastered my hair with white nail polish. They were idiots, yes, but this was getting to close to the truth for comfort…

"There!"

I'm ashamed to admit I whimpered a little when they dropped my back down on the desk, but it's true. My hair no longer looked like my human half, and even in my frantic kicking fit, Kwan had managed to paint my feet white. Minus my DP emblem, I looked almost like my other self.

Judging from their stares, I wasn't the only one who noticed. They were silent, gawking at me like I was from Mars…or the Ghost Zone.

Dash's trembling finger rose, pointing it at me. "He…he looks like…is he…"

"Fenton looks like…" Kwan was also incapable of speech, apparently. For the first time, I noticed how much they blinked at me when they were confused. In spite of the utter horror boiling up in the pit of my stomach, I briefly wondered if this was how Lancer felt during lectures.

"It's not what you think," I said, my automatic reply for anyone that discovers my secret.

Seeing my reflection in the concave portion of a nearby spoon however, I knew the similarities were unmistakable, even for a pair of 2.0 average jocks.

I scratched the back of my neck again and darted a glance at the naked Barbie. It was less awkward staring at her than waiting for them to formulate coherent sentences.

After listening to their stuttering and babbling longer than my patience would allow, I held up my arm. They simultaneously leaped backwards, cowering in fear at the sight of a toothpick-sized person pointing at them. Then it struck me: they know I'm capable of shooting ghost rays. There was no use in denying it and discussing it appeared to be out of the question as well.

"Can I go home now?" I asked, figuring I'd deal with the consequences when I was back to normal size and had my powers back.

I couldn't have gotten back to Fenton Works faster even if I'd flown. Dash and Kwan sprinted to my house; probably under the impression that their lives depended on it. Dash rang the doorbell at least forty times before Jazz showed up a few seconds later. I'd never been so relieved to see my sister in my whole life.

"Dash? What are you doing—?"

They screamed and threw me at her, not giving her the slightest chance to even ask what was going on before spinning on their heels and running as far away as they could get from my house, screaming all the way. Out of all the reactions to my secret, this was the least expected, especially from them.

"Danny?"

"Hi Jazz," I said wearily.

"What happened?"

"Long story. Can you go get Dad's crammer thing? I have a couple of morons to deal with."

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><p><strong>Take a guess at what happened next. I don't have a sequel planned, but I have like, 2-3 other revelation fics (with better writing and more plausibility) if you're interested ("Nice Job Danny" is one of my personal faves). Hope you enjoyed this strange little fic-let, and feel free to leave any parting commentsadvice for the future. Thanks :)**


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